


Sunrise IV

by Purplewall



Series: Drover's sunrises [4]
Category: McLeod's Daughters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplewall/pseuds/Purplewall
Summary: He had no sense of time anymore, but it didn't matter. All he cared about was the lovely spinning feeling in his head, the complete relaxation in his body, and the beer in his hand.
Series: Drover's sunrises [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/790170





	Sunrise IV

He gently lifted the metal ring. Slowly, but steadily, he pulled it towards him, until the familiar crack of the metal, accompanied by the sizzle of the air escaping the beer can, reached his ears. He sighed in content, and lifted the can towards his mouth. He took a small sip, there was no need to rush it, he'd been here for ages already.

He had no sense of time anymore, but it didn't matter. All he cared about was the lovely spinning feeling in his head, the complete relaxation in his body, and the beer in his hand.  
Another sip, bigger this time, filled his mouth with its tingly carbonated feeling. It quickly passed, and was replaced by the well known bittersweet taste. He swallowed, and held up the beer can to look at it. It was familiar. Safe. And good.

He sighed again; it was a happy sigh, although the situation that had brought him here wasn't necessarily happy, he knew he could always find comfort in the dark straw-coloured fluid. He forgot what had made him end up here; he just enjoyed being here, in this state, right now. There was no place he'd rather be.

He leaned back, gazed up on the sky, looking for the stars. But they weren't there. Instead he could see a vague light on the horizon. He thought it was weird, but he didn't pay much attention to it, as he finished his beer. He crushed the can in his hands, he enjoyed doing that. Ever since he'd learned how to crush them without hurting himself he'd done it. Mainly to impress people, they usually saw it as a sign of his strength, but also for the joy of it. It felt good to know that the can was empty, that the content was now in his blood. The demolishing of the can was simply an act of finalization. He was done, he'd taken that can. And he felt good.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, feeling the satisfaction and the complacency of the moment overtaking him. He opened his eyes, and noticed that the light on the horizon was actually the sun rising, creeping slowly, but steadily over the hill. Even though he couldn't feel the warmth, he could imagine it, and he closed his eyes again. He slid further down on the bench, almost laying now, the crushed beer can still in his hands. Slowly he tilted over, using his arm as a pillow, and fell asleep.

She came out on the veranda, looking at the sun, its cold light washing over the paddocks, seeing, more than feeling, the warmth of the rays to come. She took one brief look at him, and picked up his jacket, carelessly thrown over the arm of the chair.  
Gently she put the jacket over him, tucked him in, and found a pillow for him to rest his head on. She smiled as she walked inside again.


End file.
